Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Qatar and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minutemen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sixth Finger,
Gang of Four,
Depeche Mode,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liliput,
Minor Threat,
Hoover,
Glenn Branca,
Lalo Schifrin,
Adolescents,
The Tremeloes,
Peter & Gordon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bronski Beat,
Davy DMX,
Make Up,
Marc Almond,
Derrick Morgan,
Cheater Slicks,
Fat Boys,
The Walker Brothers,
The Human League,
Mars,
New Order,
World's Most,
Deepchord,
AZ,
Black Moon,
Judy Mowatt,
The Cowsills,
The American Breed,
Crash Course in Science,
Jandek,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Delta 5,
Scientists,
The Busters,
Yaz,
The Dave Clark Five,
New Age Steppers,
Inner City,
Donny Hathaway,
Siglo XX,
The Kinks,
Dead Boys,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
H. Thieme,
Country Teasers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Moss Icon,
Popol Vuh,
Barclay James Harvest,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd, Bobby Byrd.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.